


Cast My Soul to the Sea

by Levade



Series: For Oath and Honour [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien, The Silmarillion - Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2003-03-24
Updated: 2003-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levade/pseuds/Levade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Until We Rise. Glorfindel has been in Lindon, working with Elrond, for a time. Trouble is rising in Eregion, so why is Gil-galad hesitating to send them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If it even remotely resembles Tolkien, it's his, his estate, his heirs.
> 
> This is AU, a sequel to Until We Rise. Comments, suggestions welcome.

* * *

"We should be doing something now, not waiting."

Glorfindel fiddled with the quill in his hand, watching Elrond pace in a circle the length of his tower room. It wasn't a huge space; a living area took up the most of the round tower with a bedroom off of that. He'd found it exploring the East Wing of the Palace one day while waiting for Elrond to come out of a very long meeting with Gil-galad. Better still, it was empty as none of the others inhabiting the Wing wanted it. Drafty and cold in the winter, too hot in the summer, it also was only accessible via a dark, horrendously narrow spiral stair that reminded too many of underground tunnels.

It suited Glorfindel down to his toes. The room was ringed with windows that allowed fresh air and sunshine in, and offered an unparalleled view of the sky at night. It was also private. A heavy oak door to the stairs ensured no sharp elven ears could listen in on conversations here. There were no other rooms near it, and only a storage space beneath. Glorfindel could retreat here and be as noisy as he liked without disturbing a soul.

Sitting in one of the windows, one leg propped up on the ledge, the other dangling out over the long drop to the gardens below, he listened to Elrond rant. A rare thing, that. Usually it was him doing the raving and the darker of the two listening. Glorfindel frowned. Gil-galad again.

The Noldor King was beginning to greatly annoy Glorfindel. Seeing Elrond this worked up only added to the simmering resentment. "Why does he wait?"

Elrond threw a hand in the air, retreating to a chair and dropping into it with a sigh. "I wish I knew, Glorfindel. We know it was Sauron who came here, attempting to cozen us. We warned the other havens." Slumping in the chair, he stared up at the high-beamed ceiling. "Celebrimbor is not a soldier, and yet we send only support to Ost-in-Edhil. We knew Sauron had designs four hundred years ago, we see them playing out now and yet we wait!" He rose from the chair, prowling restlessly to a window to stare out, and scowled.

Pursing a lip, Glorfindel twirled the quill. "While Sauron is no Morgoth, from all that I have read and you have told me…" He met his friend's troubled gaze. "He is a danger to all free peoples."

With a curt nod, Elrond turned to sit in the window. "His hatred for our people especially knows no limits." A bitter smile stole the light from his eyes. "Eärendil sailed to gain the aid of the Valar in defeating Sauron's master and has hated us boundlessly since."

All elves, but perhaps several families in particular? Glorfindel tucked the thought away. Eärendil's successful voyage to Valinor had finally rallied the Valar to Endorre. Morgoth's defeat, and the loss of power for Sauron, had been a result of Eärendil and Elwing's brave deeds. Their only living heir stood before Glorfindel now. The ways of the Valar were murky at best in his opinion, and he had some direct experience to back his view. "Too bad they didn't see fit to wipe out all the evil while they were at it, hmm?"

"You, of all, know that is not their way, Glor."

Glorfindel agreed with a shrug. His own rantings on the Valar had provided amusement for Elrond in the past. "Why do you think Gil-galad delays? I would think him eager to see this strife ended, his people united."

Shaking his head, half-turned to look out over the city, Elrond let his gaze wander. "I have only one theory; that the memory of the War of Wrath is too fresh in his mind to think of bringing it upon us again so soon." Pausing, he nodded to some inner thought. "He will not repeat mistakes of the past if he can avoid them."

Glorfindel's blue eyes narrowed. "Second guessing the past is dangerous." Frowning for the memories of his own first life, then shrugging them off, he waved the quill around. "This won't go away. Sauron will not go away. His power will only grow."

"I know, my friend." Elrond sighed. "I know." He stood, shaking out his cloak. "Do you have plans for the evening?"

"I am free for the asking." Glorfindel grinned, rising in one effortless motion and offered a sweeping bow.

Elrond snorted. "Save it for the ladies of Court, you vain peacock." At the mock affronted expression he gestured with his head. "I'm off for an evening with Círdan and Bronwe. Would you care to join me?"

"Is Bron cooking?" Striding over to a table, dropping the quill, Glorfindel looked around and spotted his cloak draped over another chair. "If Círdan is…I might reconsider."

"As if you have any room to speak!" Elrond laughed outright at the truly offended look on his friend's face. "What was that horrid concoction you called stew on our last trip?"

Eyebrow arched, he turned to face Elrond. "That guard house stove hadn't been used for well over a hundred years! How was I to know you needed to clean the flume?" He huffed at the remembrance of the clouds of ash and smoke that had all but suffocated him. "I do just fine over an open fire." Flinging the cloak around his shoulders and fastening it, he added, "And you shouldn't listen to tales from others." Blue eyes gleamed with good humour.

"Come." Elrond gestured for him to follow, shaking his head. "Bronwe is playing hostess. I think she's lonely with Taurion assigned to Eregion."

"I didn't realize she was back from Edhellond." Glorfindel's voice echoed eerily in the stairwell.

"From what she said we almost didn't get her back at all."

"Oh?"

"She had family there she never knew of and was quite taken with them. Falathrim who crossed the mountains before Beleriand sunk." Elrond pushed open the tower door, stepping into the main passage of the East Wing. "To use her words, 'it was warmer, the ocean incredible, and had huge forests.'"

"She would abandon us for that?" Glorfindel caught the gaze of a passing page who appeared to be listening and arched his eyebrow, staring pointedly at the youth. The younger elf flushed and hurried on.

"From how she tells it..." Elrond smiled. "...yes."

"I suppose that's one thing to be thankful for Taurion then." Ignoring Elrond's pointed frown he swiped a handful of fragrant flowers from the Palace gardens and grinned at him. "Something for the hostess." Lifting them to his nose he drew in an appreciative breath.

Elrond rolled his eyes, well used to the other's ways. "You're just hoping she'll forget that you left your horse untethered last time and it ate the entire bower of herbs."

"That horse untied itself!" Glorfindel huffed. "He was too sneaky by half. It's just as well he ran off." He smiled suddenly, the sort of smile that usually signaled mischief of one sort or another. There seemed to be no end of schemes in the blonde elf's mind. "...She forgave me."

Stopping, Elrond cocked an eyebrow. "You're lucky it wasn't Ramë." With a smirk, he turned and continued walking.

Pursing a lip, Glorfindel nodded. The Lorien elf was a more temperamental creature, best treated with careful handling. Or several meads and a few bawdy jokes. "Ramë likes me," he insisted as he caught up. "We both revile Galadriel unashamedly."

That was true.

"And Gil-galad."

"Well…yes." Offering an unrepentant grin, happy to be the fool if it got a smile on his friend's face, and removed the brooding darkness for a time. "Tanthus said he has a new gelding he wanted to show me."

"He breeds sound horses." Elrond slanted a smile at the other. "One that might even put up with your temperament."

Glorfindel stopped walking to frown. "My temperament?"

Bowing to a woman who had to step aside to avoid walking into his companion's back, Elrond chuckled. "You can hardly expect me to compliment you, Glorfindel." Arched an eyebrow, and turned to continue walking. "As it is you have a veritable seraglio who would attend you."

"Truly?" He chuckled. "I like the sound of that… Imagine any number of females waiting upon my every whim."

"You imagine it." Elrond snorted. "Even one to attend and keep happy seems too much at times."

"You're too busy with the king's duties." A dark look said what he thought of that. How many times had he come upon Elrond slumped over a map, finally sleeping after days of non-stop responsibilities? He had threatened to sleep on the threshold of half-elf's quarters, warning off those who would disturb his sleep for some minor crises easily handled by another.

Just as well Elrond hadn't heard him chiding more than one of the king's advisors for running too quickly for the Herald.

"They use you, and I don't care for it one bit."

Smile mild, but clearly amused, Elrond clapped his shoulder. "Then it is just as well I have you around to remind me, isn't it?"

"Actually?" Glorfindel preened, blue eyes gleaming. "Yes." Which made the other laugh, just as he'd hoped, forgetting at least for a time about the worries that darkened their lands.

* * *

Another formal gathering, another excuse for the Court to dress up and try to impress one another.

Another night to be bored to a mind-numbing state.

"Wenna, wait here. I see someone I need to speak with." Taurion strode off, leaving Bronwe to frown at his back. Just once would it be too much to leave off being a soldier? Just one night, it was all she asked. One night to put aside all but the most pressing concerns, especially considering Taurion was only home for two days, charged with delivering plans to Gil-galad. He had already spent most of the time in meetings with senior officers and the King's advisors. Taurion was thorough in executing his duties, and the nervous feel of the court didn't help put him at ease. Darkness was growing, even the youngest of elves, those who hadn't lived through the War of Wrath, felt it in the air. There was a chill that came from the east and roused old fears in many. Sighing, she shook her head and turned to walk over to a bench, sitting with casual disregard for the intricate draping of her gown.

She looked up through the trees to the stars. A beautiful night, with a perfect crescent moon hanging as if placed there by some artistic hand. Warm still, as late summers typically were in Mithlond. And she was spending it sitting on a bench in a garden that was far too precise and planned for her sensibilities. A garden that, to her way of thinking, symbolized the whole formality of the Noldor Court.

How was it that she ended up at so many of these blasted formal goings-on when she truly wasn't part of the Court? Taurion insisted, when he was present, and Círdan persuaded her the other times. He had about as much love of them as she, possibly less, but by dragging her along he at least ensured someone who shared his sentiments.

Pulling the beaded gauze of her shawl up over a bared shoulder, she shook her head, wincing as a braid caught on the metal work of the bench. Berating herself for feeling sorry and pouting in a corner, she stood. "Wait here for him." Bronwe mimicked Taurion's Noldorin accent. "I could wait until the Valar come back before -" Seeing a couple approaching, at least one of the two familiar, she closed her mouth and tried to look happy.

"Bron!" Glorfindel grinned, taking her arm with an approving look. "Lovely as ever. Slipped the leash again, hmm?" He winked, pretending not to see her annoyed frown. "Have you met Meldisse?"

"No." She smiled at the raven-haired beauty, no doubt Glorfindel's latest paramour. They flocked to him like birds to a fruit tree and it seemed he was always introducing a new one. "Pleased to meet you."

"Bronwe is the second friend I made after returning, but I was wearing clothing by then." The blonde elf smiled warmly, eyes sparkling. "If I speak poorly, blame her." Ignoring the scornful huff, he looked around.

"Mistress Healer." Meldisse slipped her hand through Glorfindel's arm with a proprietary air, much to Bronwe's amusement. As if she was competition.

"Have you seen Elrond?"

"No, but I know earlier he was determined to speak to the king." Glorfindel's expression shifted as his gaze went over her shoulder, hardening to a hauteur he rarely showed outside of Court. "He's concerned about Eregion."

Bronwe startled as she was pulled back and held against another body, Taurion's voice speaking quite near her ear. "As is everyone else. I'm certain we all believe the High King is concerned for all elves in Middle-earth."

Ah, a favourite game. Glorfindel let a smile curl his mouth. "I'm not certain Amdír would agree."

"I meant his Noldor subjects."

"Ah." Blue eyes gleaming as Taurion clearly looked annoyed, Glorfindel let his gaze go to Bronwe. "Celebrimbor must be feeling that concern right now quite strongly as his city is overrun."

This was an old source of contention, one that Glorfindel had gleefully poked at since first meeting Taruion. His dislike of Gil-galad's method of ruling was far from secret.

"I'll have you know we leave in the morning, taking dispatches to Lord Celebrimbor."

"Dispatches." Disdain dripped off every vowel. "No doubt Celebrimbor will find the parchment of great assistance."

"He has brought this upon himself." Taurion was gripping Bronwe's arms tightly. Too tightly and she tried to ease away, unhappy at being between the two antagonists yet again. "It is his own fault! We warned him not to treat with Annatar."

"And what of his subjects? Or the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn?"

"As if you care what happens to the Lady."

"She is my cousin, distant perhaps but I cannot say I have any desire to see her dead." Glorfindel was unruffled, speaking calmly even as Taurion's face and neck flushed red.

"And yet from all I have been told, for all your vaunted care, Lord Glorfindel, you will not even take up the sword and commission offered to you by King Gil-galad."

Bronwe winced at the taunting tone, and pulled away. "Enough, Taurion. Both of you. Enough!"

"I served my chosen lord to the consequences of my death." Glorfindel was every inch an Eldar lord as he pinned a cold gaze on the younger elf. "Don't speak to me of sacrifice when you are barely out of your second century and have yet to fight in a war."

"And yet now you will but rest on those laurels." Scorn dripped from Taurion's words.

Bronwe turned to put her hands on his chest as Glorfindel's eyes flashed. "Taurion! Enough. You will not agree. Let it go at that."

"And what of him, your great friend and once patient, what of that, Wenna?"

She flinched as if hit, letting her hands fall to her side. "I think it best if you left now."

One last furious glare at Glorfindel, and Taurion stalked off, leaving Bronwe to stare after him.

"Bronwe-"

"Don't." She turned to face the pair, eyes silver in her anger. "You goaded him, Glorfindel, as you do every time you and he are in one place together. It is truly beyond me why two grown males cannot simply agree to disagree and let it go instead of turning it into a pissing contest, but I'm done with it tonight." A mocking curtsy and she turned, leaving the pair alone in the garden.

Glorfindel frowned after her, annoyed. Not because she wasn't right but there was just something about Taurion that rubbed him wrong. That air of Noldor pride and arrogance. And for what? What had he done to feel he could be so proud?

"That was unpleasant."

Meldisse. He'd forgotten her in the middle of angry words. Contrite, Glorfindel held out his arm. "Quite." A smile, a bit forced but he doubted she would notice. "Shall we stroll around the lake?"

* * *

A curt rap on her door the next morning was all the warning Bronwe got before opening it to see Taurion standing there. He was dressed in the silver and blue of Gil-galad's livery, a heavy grey cloak over his shoulders to ward off the rain. Black hair was pulled back so tightly she knew he would have a headache by the end of the day.

"I came to wish you well, Wenna."

Pursing her lips as he took off his gloves, Bronwe nodded. "You're still angry." And she was tired of it all. "I don't know what it will take to make you believe me, Taurion."

He reached for her hand, grasping it, grey eyes meeting her gaze. "Marry me when I return."

Bronwe stared at him, at a loss for words. How long now had they been betrothed, and he put off setting a date due to circumstances. Duty. Disagreement about her continuing to act as a healer once they were married. Now with a war pending, he wanted to marry? "I—"

"No." He put a finger to her lips and offered a wry smile. "Say nothing now."

"But-"

He cut her off by pulling her against him, capturing her lips in a kiss that was more passionate than any they had yet shared. Bronwe was breathless when he pulled away and set her back. "Think on it, Wenna."

Gathering her scattered wits, Bronwe watched him mount his horse and ride off without even looking back.

Think on it. Think on it? What bad tales of gallantry had he been reading? You did not argue with your betrothed then simply ride off the next day as if nothing happened! "Blast it." Bronwe scowled at the street where only a few geese waddled down the lane, heading for the meadow. From the harbor she could hear the sailors singing as they set out for sea and the scent of freshly baked bread drifted in from town.

"As if he's just going to ride back and grab me up to wed me when he returns?" She snorted and grabbed the basket by her doorstep. "Oh, his mother and sisters would love that, wouldn't they?" There was no love lost between his very properly Noldor mother and herself. Far from welcoming her into the family, the woman had done all she could to discourage her son from wedding a 'dark elf'.

"Bloody Noldor." Bronwe pulled the cloak off the clothesline it was hanging on, and tossed it over her shoulders as a light drizzle of rain began to fall. "Think they're the only learned ones and the rest of us are a bunch of dirty savages." She was generalizing, being unfair, and knew it, but it felt good to mutter as she set out for the town. Some days, the kinslaying in Doriath was a bit too vivid in her mind, and she wondered yet again what kept her in the largely Noldor city.

Cresting a hill, she looked down at the harbor, and the swanships bobbing at the quays. Songs rose in the air as the sailors readied the ships, the words Teler, and it made her smile. This was why. The sea, the sea and those who loved it as she did.

Changing course, she headed for the shipyards, curious to see what Cirdan had to say about everything.

One could always count on the old shipwright for an acerbic answer, and that was exactly what she was looking for.

* * *

Commission or not, nothing was going to keep Glorfindel from riding at the side of Elrond. He needed neither oath or approval, only his sword, dagger and bow. Anyone who wanted to try and stop him was quite welcome to try.

It was almost a disappointment to see Gil-galad walking with Elrond, meet his eyes and get only a nod.

Well then. Patting the neck of his horse, he looked down the columns of elves behind him. They looked good, ready to ride out and face what could be very bad indeed. Most of them were strangers, and with a last pat, Glorfindel walked down the lines, speaking here and there with a soldier. It helped settle him, and calmed them as well. He was a survivor of the Nirnaeth, one of the bloodiest battles ever fought.

The Gondolin reputation didn't hurt either.

Glorfindel was just about to turn back when a familiar voice stopped him. Slowly turning, he blinked at the sight of Bronwe checking a saddlebag and his feet were moving before his brain had time to yell at him to stop.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

She looked up, frowned and stood. "Making sure I have all my gear, same as many here I should think."

Hair braided tightly off her face, dressed in dark leggings and tunic, grey cloak over that, she looked ready to ride with them. "You cannot mean to hare off after Taurion." It was out of his mouth before he thought about it, but then that was all part of what he was famous for.

Bronwe's mouth tightened but she held his gaze. "No, I mean to ride with the other healers to Nîn-in-Eilph." Setting a hand on her horses' shoulder to settle it, she arched an eyebrow. "Healers will be needed."

"Yes, doubtless," Glorfindel said impatiently, "and yet I find it odd that you volunteered."

"You have all the tact of an Orc." Bronwe turned to pick up her saddlebag and slung it over her horses' shoulders, fastening it down. She rode as Silvan elves did, without a saddle. "I don't believe your approval is required, Glorfindel."

While she was technically right, it did nothing to stop his ire. "Mine, no. His," he pointed to where Elrond was walking towards them, having noted the argument, "yes."

The look she shot Glorfindel was not kind, but Bronwe resolutely waited for Elrond to join them, aware that he already looked harried. The last thing he needed now was a petulant argument.

"Is something wrong, Glorfindel?"

Bronwe could not stop her eyebrows arching upwards, but did manage not to smirk.

Glorfindel felt no compunctions to control his annoyance. "Elrond, you cannot think to let her ride into a battle."

"No." Calm, clearly in control, Elrond met the blue gaze of his friend. "The healers ride to Nîn-in-Eilph where we will leave them with a unit of soliders. The rest of us will ride on to Ost-in-Edhil." Sarcasm laced his tone. "I think twenty leagues plenty of distance to keep they and the wounded safe. Do you disagree?"

A clear challenge from one he did respect was not taken lightly. Glorfindel shot a look at Bronwe, then met the grey eyes of his lord. "I leave it to your judgment." A shallow bow and he spun to walk quickly back towards his horse.

Elrond held up a hand as Bronwe opened her mouth. "No, please, Bronwe. No more. I have heard enough arguing today." She closed her mouth with a snap, and nodded. "Stay with the others, and for the love of all the stars above, don't get hurt."

"I'll do my best, milord." Bronwe gave a sniff as he turned. "I should hope you do the same."

It made Elrond smile as he walked back up to the front of the column, even as he met the brooding gaze of his friend. "Anything else to say, Glorfindel?"

"No." A rather grim smile curved his mouth. "Except I am glad to be riding here at the front rather than the middle or rear. The mud is horrendous today."

Shaking his head as he mounted, Elrond signaled the column forward. Knowing his friend as well as he did, Glorfindel would drop back to ride with some of the other soldiers and get just as dirty and mucked up as they. But it suited him to be considered vain, which wasn't an untruth. Ai. Nothing was easy lately.

Elrond kneed his horse forward and set his mind upon what to expect when they reached his cousin's city. He only hoped it would not be as bad as they all feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC
> 
> This part is newer, re-written and …. Well, let me know what you think? Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

They left a unit of soldiers with the healers just east of Nîn-in-Eilph, on the River Sirannon. The men of Tharbad were curious, but not enough to approach the elven army. Already jumpy by the repeated attacks of Orcs raiding their stores, the denizens of Thabad watched the Elves cross the ford, and continue on. Elves were strange creatures in those dark days, and rarely came down from their grand city to trade with the Men. They kept mostly to themselves, and that suited most of the men. These elves were soldiers, from the coast where many knew the Elven King lived. They rode in an eerie silence, looking at those curious to get a glimpse of them with eyes that were just inhuman enough to make mothers gather their children to keep them from chasing after. That they glowed slightly in the gathering dusk was even more reason to let them pass and be gone.

No, the Elves, they decided, were best left alone to deal with the dark things that roamed the night if that was their inclination. That suited the men who stayed indoors as soon as the sun began to go down.

Bronwe finished help set up the tents and stopped to watch a flight of swans soar in over Nîn-in-Eilph. A thick stand of holly trees was a stone's throw away, but beyond that, up the steep rise and hill, she could just make out the glittering white towers of a city.

"They are fearful." Eärnur watched as a group of humans approached, wary and wounded. "We will help you," he offered in a gentle voice, but the humans stopped and only watched them warily.

They have a great deal to fear." At his incredulous look, she shook her head. "Not from us, but certainly the darker things that roam these lands."

"And mosquitoes!" The healer slapped at his arm, sending a glare towards the wetlands. "We'd best set up the candles or we'll be sucked dry by the insects."

Holding out her hands, Bronwe and several others more familiar with Westron approached the women and children. They spoke softly, soothing the fears of the jumpy humans, and led them to tents where their wounds could be tended.

With a last glance eastwards, Bronwe offered a gentle smile for a timid child and gestured for him to follow.

She wondered where Taurion was. Probably in the city itself, or encamped outside, the better to defend. Trying to forget that Glorfindel had not said another word to her, nor even glanced in her direction since the first morning of departure. Angry words shouldn't be the last spoken between friends. She'd learned that in Doriath. She sighed and sent a prayer winging for all of them as she knelt to discover how the child had broken his arm.

* * *

Glorfindel cursed as the morning light revealed the true destruction. He slashed at a holly bush and nudged his mount forward.

Ost-in-Edhil was a ruin. Buildings fallen, burned, the walls collapsed. Bodies of the slain laying where they'd been cut down, grey eyes staring upwards in sightless ruin. The white towers of the city fallen. Dismounting, he stood at the edges of the ruined walls, aware of the others moving around him. Swallowing heavily at the smell of gore and blood, he drew an arm across his forehead.

This was not Gondolin. No dragons scaled the walls. No Balrogs challenged the mountain passes.

"Glorfindel?" Elrond rode up beside the other, concerned at the stark expression and rigid stance. He swung off his horse, walking over to clasp his shoulder and winced at the onslaught of emotions. "We came too late."

Breaking free of the memories, the blond drew in a long, ragged breath. "There might be survivors in the hills." He raised his head to look up at the green slopes. Spring. The green returning to the land. Now blighted with blood, but not enough to account for all who had once lived in the city.

"We'll have to search the city as well." Elrond pushed back the sickness rising at the sight of so many dead. He had gotten to known Celebrimbor in the short time his cousin had lived in Lindon. Clever, quick in temperament and wit, it seemed his cousin had too much of his father's pride, and quite as much of his talent. Just like his father, it now seemed Celebrimbor's life was cut short. "Before dark."

"They'll return." Glorfindel nodded, turning a grim expression on Elrond. "Sauron won't stop here."

"No."

"I'll gather a unit and search the far end. Send the rest east and west."

Elrond nodded. "I'll take the last and search House of the Mírdain."

"Elrond." Glorfindel frowned. "Are you certain?"

He nodded. "Go. Tell them not to delay." Starting to turn, Elrond reached out to grab the others' cloak. "Glorfindel. Be vigilant."

He nodded, a grim smile curving his lips. "You as well."

In the end, they hadn't been able to make much of a difference. Sauron and his forces had poured down upon them at nightfall. Green hills ran black, both with Orcs, and later, with their blood.

It had gone that way three days. Three days to gather those they could find, those wounded or hiding. He had sent those who could ride to the river with a warning for the healers to be ready to run. Elrond knew they wouldn't leave yet, regardless of what he ordered.

Starlight was obliterated by smoke and fire.

Elrond, his voice hoarse from yelling over the cries of Orcs and Easterlings coming against them, signaled a retreat. Wheeling his horse, he sliced at the Orc charging him and urged his mount forward as he tried to see through the smoke just who was near him. A puff of air past his cheek and a grunt of pain to his left, and he turned to see an Orc go down, an arrow between its eyes.

"Go!" Glorfindel had another arrow notched already, losing it before firing off another in rapid succession. Gaining them some ground to run. He shot two more arrows before turning his own horse to chase after Elrond.

Leaving behind the ruins of a once beautiful city.

And the taste of ashes.

They had pushed hard to get to the encampment on the Sirannon, and found the healers had moved to a position past the marshes. A position that forced an enemy to come through the wetlands or go around thus ensuring they had time to move.

Elrond, face black from soot, offered a rather feral grin for his companion. "I trust you believe me now?"

Glorfindel, hair grey in places from ash, face streaked with soot, shook his head. It was well the healers had the wit to move before danger was upon them, but they were far from safe. "We must get beyond the plains."

"I know." As he dismounted and handed the reins to Glorfindel, Elrond nodded. "The horses need a rest and so do we."

"I'll set the watches." Glorfindel turned his horse, urging it towards the picket lines, Elrond's horse following.

Walking through the camp, Elrond stopped to talk to some he knew and urged them to rest. His weary feet led him to the healers tents and he paused. He should check in, see how they were doing. There were so many wounded, so many who needed help.

Deciding to look in on them, he stepped through the nearest tent's flap and almost groaned at the sight of so many wounded elves. Some were just children. Mindless of his own discomfort, he stopped to bend next to one of the soldiers he knew. Closing his eyes Elrond pulled the sheet up over the young elf's face. Nothing to be done there.

He moved on, stopping to speak to some, see what they needed. Bringing water and comfort as he could.

"Sir?"

He looked up as a healer whose name he couldn't place touched his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Milord, we have a patient over in the other tent who…" Hesitating, the healer gestured. "Sir, please come with me."

Almost afraid of what he wasn't being told, Elrond nodded, following the healer out of the current tent and into another.

This one was much quieter. He tensed as he felt the change and realized he should have known. It was normal procedure to keep the dead and mortally injured in a separate tent. Away from those who were expected to recover.

Elrond frowned as he saw Bronwe, though he was relieved she was alive.

"They brought Taurion in." Eärnur flinched as Elrond turned a sharp look upon him. "He was horribly wounded. We did what we could but his wounds were terrible." Elrond closed his eyes, and shunted the sorrow aside. Not now. Not here. He was needed. There was no need to ask, he could see for himself in dark circles under her eyes and trembling hands that she was not doing half as well as she wanted everyone to think. A nod and he stepped over to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder as she re-bandaged a seeping wound.

"Bronwe."

"Elrond." She startled and stared at him a moment before jumping up to hug him. "You are well!"

Setting her gently back, he offered a weary smile and squeezed her shoulders. "Did you doubt?"

Lip trembling, she looked away, gesturing around with a hand. "There are so many."

"And many survived." Taking her arm, he guided her towards the tent flap. "Driving yourself to exhaustion will not help them, Bronwe."

She stopped at the flap, turning to look at one cot in particular where a lone figure lay, covered by a blanket. It seemed so heartless to just leave him here. She knew he was but the shell, that his fea had long since fled, but still it hurt. "What will we do with them, Elrond?"

Following her glance, he knew she meant the bodies of those fallen and sighed. Mandos had been busy, but they did not have time to bury all of those who died. Elven bodies would turn to ash eventually, but with Orcs and worse prowling the hills they could not just leave them. "We cannot bring them with us, Bronwe. Sauron will not give us time to bury them as we should."

Biting her lip hard enough to taste blood, Bronwe dug for the strength to do what must be done. "What of …of fires?"

"Pyres?" Elrond frowned. It was not a tradition of the Noldor or Sindar, but he knew some of the Avari burned their dead.

"We cannot leave them to be …mauled." Voice cracking, she fisted her hands and met his gaze. "I would rather his body be burned than leave it to the creatures following us."

Was it really his choice? Elrond closed his eyes, pushing his weariness back, trying to marshal his thoughts. So much to be done, and so many who no longer had families looked to him to lead. He had women and children out there as well as wounded survivors. "Let us ask the families, Bronwe." Holding up a hand to stop her words, Elrond shook his head. "It is the least we can do, offering this choice before they must leave everything."

Bowing her head, she nodded and let him usher her from the tent.

Glorfindel turned as they came out and his smile of greeting faltered seeing the wan, pale faces. "What has happened?"

Bronwe shook her head and pulled free of Elrond's grip. "I…I'll see you later." She hurried off before either of them could speak.

"Let her go." Elrond put out a hand to forestall Glorfindel from following. "Taurion is dead."

Blue eyes widened in surprise and Glorfindel's gaze went to the tent. "He is …"

"Yes." Scrubbing a hand across his eyes, Elrond grimaced at the smell of blood and wounds mixing with the decaying matter of the swamps. He wanted to run from the place. Run and not stop until the stench and sorrow was only a memory.

So much gone wrong. So many lives changed irreparably.

Again.

"Elrond, do not give in to despair."

Looking up with an almost bemused expression, Elrond wasn't surprised to find Glorfindel had taken hold of his arm and was guiding him towards another tent, one away from the wounded. He decided he wasn't so proud that he couldn't lean a bit on his friend this one time.

"You're drained."

Dark tones that almost…almost made him laugh. It turned into a sigh instead. "Yes, I suppose so."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. Healers. Thought they were indestructible. Finding an empty cot he pressed Elrond down, and covered him with a blanket. "I'll wake you before dawn."

"See that you do." He was asleep as soon as the last word was out.

* * *

When dawn came one day later, Elven voices rose in lament for those slain. Some of the songs were old, some so ancient that they had come with those who crossed the ice, and Glorfindel shivered to hear them sung here in this land. Fog shrouded the sun, leaving the land in a grey mist that made it all the more surrealistic as smoke rose from the pyres. Though many of those slain had been Noldor, there had been Sindar as well, and the laments came from the customs of both clans.

Bronwe stood with the other healers, her face so pale and strained that Glorfindel wished there was something, anything that could be said to make her feel better.

There were no words. He knew from his own former life that losing a loved one was a wound so deep some never recovered. It was a mercy, in his estimation, that she had not wed Taurion. The wound would have been even deeper then, but then Bronwe was not asking for his opinions.

She hadn't even spoken one word to him as yet.

Was she angry at him? It seemed out of character, but then grief was an odd thing. Some it left cold and distant and others distraught, incapable of being comforted.

Lifing his voice in a lament, a plea to Námo to guide the souls of the fallen, to heal them in his halls and hope …always hope that they would again walk together again on the white shores of Aman, Glorfindel resolved all the more to be the strength to his friends in this time. His strength was undiminished, his soul strong and sure in its path.

Sauron had shown himself for what he was here; the deceiver, the trickster.

Next time they would be ready.

* * *

"Bronwe?" Glorfindel waited, not certain she would even acknowledge him, but finally she turned and faced him. Waiting until the other healers had passed out of ear shot, healers were a nosy lot, always asking too many questions, he sought for her gaze but she looked everywhere but directly at him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Tightening the grip on her cloak, Bronwe looked at the pyres, now just ashes and swallowed hard. "Are you?"

He almost took a step back as she met his gaze, grey eyes hard. Angry. "You never liked him, did you?"

Deep breath and he squared his shoulders. "We did not see eye-to-eye on many things, but I never wished for his death. You cannot think I did."

"I don't know what to think." Her voice cracked and he almost took a step forward but she held out a hand, warding him off. "Just…please do not say you're sorry. Not for me and certainly not for him." A last glance for the pyres and a tear slid down her cheek as she turned away. "I must help the others."

And she was gone.

Glorfindel watched her go, his mind reeling from the anger in her gaze. Had he ever done anything to Taurion? They had spoken harshly with one another, rarely agreeing on anything, but there was nothing he had done to earn such anger.

Resolutely putting it down to grief, he scowled as he turned to go find Elrond. The sooner they left this blighted land the better.

* * *

At dawn they packed up only what was necessary, and moved out, walking, riding past the frightened gazes of the men. Carts were followed closely by guards, carrying wounded and those too weak to walk or ride. Many humans had begged to be allowed to follow, afraid of what had beaten those who had seemed so strong, so wise. Elrond, full of pity for the sight of so many fearful gazes, had relented and allowed them to come as well. He would not willingly leave any here for Sauron to torment.

A flight of swans winged overhead, honking, calling to the elves below in a final farewell. Songs, low and quiet, rising mournfully sent shivers through those men who would not leave, but watched from a distance. They would not leave their homes, the land they had long tended and fought for and Elrond, though counseling against staying, left the choice to them.

He could not fault them this day for not following the advice of the Elves. What had it led them to but death and ruin?

A human child broke free of the adults and ran after them, waving.

The sun shone down upon them, a light breeze flagging cloaks, brushing across faces, more than one wet with tears.

Riding next to Elrond, Glorfindel shook his head. "If they have any sense they'll leave."

"And go where?"

Glorfindel lapsed into gloomy silence. Silence that lasted until they stopped for a rest and sat under a tree, watching clouds form and sail across the pale blue of the sky.

Stick in hand, Elrond scratched designs in the dirt. He looked out over the long line of carts and horses, soldier and former citizens of a once-great city wandering through the ranks of wounded, offering water and comfort. "Returning these people to Mithlond, to Lindon, is no mercy."

Glorfindel nodded, expression annoyed. "I knew something was brewing in that head of yours. What are you thinking?"

"We did them a great disservice waiting so long to come to their aid." Elrond looked at him. "Do you recall that valley up in the Misty Mountains. The one with all the waterfalls you said called to mind Gondolin?"

Golden eyebrows rose. "Yes. 'Twas beautiful."

Elrond nodded. "I say we go there." He narrowed his eyes as he looked west. "Gil-galad has been urging me to find somewhere to found another haven. One that could offer assistance."

"Now." Glorfindel stared at the other elf as though he couldn't believe he was doing something so impulsive. "Though they expect us back?" Naught but the promise of a gleam in his eyes as he waited for the answer.

"Yes."

"What of the soldiers? The survivors?"

"Those who wish to come with us may." He tossed the stick aside. "It's not as though I'm disobeying orders, Glorfindel. I was told to find and found a haven." Elrond's look was grim. "The timing is mine, that is all."

Glorfindel nodded, an approving smile curving his lips. "You know I go with you."

"I had hoped so." Picking up a pebble, Elrond tossed it. "My thinking is thus. You and I return with those who will to Lindon." He looked up, meeting the other elf's gaze. "We cannot leave Bronwe yet, and I would tell Gil-galad myself of my plans." He smiled at the relief on Glorfindel's face. "Golradir was with us on that scouting trip to the valley. If he recalls the way, I would send him onward with those who will go to the valley before we go any further. The rest of us will return to Lindon. Any now injured who are well enough then may accompany us when we leave and go east."

"We'll have only summer and fall to build what we can before winter comes." Glorfindel tapped a finger on his thigh, calculating time and what needed to be done before nodding. "It can be done…if we leave soon."

"Precisely." Elrond frowned. "One other thing I would have you do?"

"You have but to name it."

"You know where Ramë's flet is, at the edge of Amdir's realm?"

Glorfindel nodded. He recalled it clearly from the visit they had made only several years earlier.

Elrond hesitated, wondering if it was truly wise to ask this of Ramë. She was Bronwe's friend, counted as family to the other healer. If he didn't tell her, Ramë might never forgive him. "Find her and tell her what happened, all of it. Ask her to come to Mithlond with you."

Glorfindel rose to his feet. "I'll find Golradir and send him to you before I leave."

Elrond stood also. "Glorfindel." He stopped the other elf with a hand on his arm. "Thank you."

Glorfindel's smile was brilliant, lighting even his eyes. He offered a bow, bringing a smile to Elrond's face, before turning and striding off.

Changes were coming, the very changes he had been expecting. Though some…Glorfindel's steps slowed as he neared the spot he knew Bronwe was resting with the other healers and injured. Some, he wished he could have helped avoid.

Shaking his head, he moved on. One continued forward or was swept aside.

The world simply did not wait for anyone.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TBC
> 
> This part is newer, re-written and …. Well, let me know what you think? Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This also was re-written many times and probably will be yet again. It's not where I see it, or want it to be but re-writing is not something I have patience with.


End file.
